Vixen in the Wind (16 Years Gone)
by VenustheMarvelTurtle
Summary: After two years of undercover work, Officers Hopps and Wilde bust an illegal mammal trafficking ring connected to the lingering night howler trade running out the back of the FurFlung nightclub. Nick becomes a hero twice over and finds something he thought he lost sixteen years ago. Holding on to it, however, is another story entirely, particularly when the mob gets involved.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N:** **Chapters are in varying POV'S between Nick and Judy, with possibly some other characters mixed in.** **I now DESPISE Mary Sue OFC's that are only inserted for romance, so rest assured this isn't that kind of original character fic at all. This characters only purpose is to cause Nick angst, which I can't resist doing. No sibling incest, no quick relationships... Slow, painful emotions with a happy ending... Maybe. Also, slow burn Judy/Nick.)**

* * *

 **Judy**

Judy knows something's changed that morning, as the officers in the precinct file into the bullpen for the briefing. Everything is the same, but it also isn't, like a room with all the furniture moved an inch to the right. Barely perceptible but still... off. The air is charged with tense, tingling electricity that she can feel in the balls of her feet and the base of her ears, kind of exciting but mostly unnerving.

She glances up at the clock above the door and bites her lip. The time blinks back at her in faded red digits- eight fifty eight. The briefing is supposed to be starting at nine- it ALWAYS starts at nine- but Bogo is nowhere to be found, and the few officers milling around the room can't seem to stay in their seats. The usual loud, pre meeting conversations and ribbing is absent, replaced by low muttering. Fangmire is fidgety, Torro is nervously picking at his hooves, and Clawhauser has actual sweat stains visible in the armpits of his uniform, fur damp and shiny around his pudgy face.

Eight fifty nine. It's warm in the bullpen, warmer than she can ever remember it being. Judy thinks she understands why Clawhauser is sweating.

Nine o clock, and she sits to attention, lavender irises fixated on the door that her Chief is no doubt going to come bursting through at any moment with his trusty dusty clipboard and a bellow for silence-

Nada. Zilch, nein, zippo, and by the time she's finished coming up with synonyms for the word _nothing,_ the door is still closed, the meeting is still unstarted, and the time moves to Nine o one. Even the clock seems tense, switching the numbers quick and jerky instead of its usual slow, lazy cadence.

Rabbits are creatures of routine, and so, to a certain degree, are police officers. Bogo's a stickler for routine and procedure, and usually that falls right in line with Judy's compulsion to follow said procedure. His timeliness was the last thing she was counting on to assure herself that nothing strange was happening, and without it...

Something is definitely, severely wrong.

It's nine o three when Bogo finally enters the room, tailed by DelGato and Katz. The other officers find their seats with nary a whisper, and just when Judy is expecting things to get normal again, it doesn't. Bogo puts a hoof over the microphone at the podium and starts whispering to the two feline officers at his flanks, and it takes every bit of home training having good girl she possesses inside herself for Judy not to strain her ears to hear what's being said.

It's nine o five. The door swings open again, making everyone jump, but Judy relaxes a bit- it's just Nick, late as usual, so at least that hasn't changed. But no one says hello as he comes in, no one smiles or scowls or purses their lips, no one yells 'mornin', Slick Nick' or 'hey, Officer Wilde', or even mumbles 'that guy's here, thought he would have quit by now'. Judy's pretty much heard it all when it comes to her partner-slash-best friend.

Nick settles into the empty seat next to her that might as well have his name on it (any unoccupied seat or space next to Judy might as well have his name on it), slouching down in the way he knows Bogo hates and adopting his usual 'I couldn't care less and am only here to smirk sarcastically at all of you' attitude.

But Judy knows him, knows him better than she knows herself often times, so she sees that he's just as affected by the weird atmosphere as she is. He's got his mirrored aviators on shielding his eyes, but above the band his black tipped ears are pricked and stiff, and his paw is tight around the coffee cup that he's not sipping out of at all.

He glances over at her and graces her with a small smirk, voice low and measured. "Hey, Carrots. You might wanna hit a spa this weekend, de-stress a little bit. You look like you're about to vibrate out of your pelt. Not that I wouldn't mind a new pair of rabbit skin slippers, but I don't think I can pull off that color like you can."

Judy takes her mind off of the current predicament long enough to snort heavily and roll her eyes at his utter ridiculousness, which she thinks is exactly his purpose in the first place. There are times when Nick's brand of humour is appreciated and times when it isn't, but this probably falls into the former category more than anything. Besides, she can hear the undertone of caring in the flippant words.

"If you said that anywhere outside of this room, you'd be skinned yourself, and you know it." she points out. He makes an unconcerned noise in the back of his throat.

"Please. Everybody in this skittish city knows I could never harm a hair on your fuzzy little head." He raises his hand like he's about to take a sip of coffee, but ultimately doesn't.

If this was a normal day, that cup would already be empty and in the trash. Judy hears the liquid sloshing around inside- it's nearly full.

Nick loves coffee. Nick NEEDS coffee. Nick not chugging down coffee like it's going out of style is...

Weird. Hence her point.

"Hey," she hisses, swinging her feet over the edge of her chair. "What's going on today? Everybody's acting really bonkers."

And Nick, bless Nick, because Nick knows everyone and by extension knows everything, looks over at her and whispers back out of the corner of his mouth-

"It's the FurFlung sting. Apparently there's been some kind of new development."

In the span of a breath, Judy's nervous energy turns into boiling excitement that practically lifts her out of her seat. She thinks she whimpers a little. The entire FurFlung case had been kept under super secret wraps by Bogo and the very few officers involved from the get go. Judy had been salivating after the tiniest tidbits of information after a simple noise complaint turned into a two year long investigation.

"What did-?"

"EVERYBODY SHUT IT!"

There's a mad dash to get into a chair and all noise ceases immediately, leaving the room as silent as the grave. Bogo glares at them all as they stare fearfully back. A few tense moments pass. Eventually, his roaming eyes settle on Nick.

"Glasses off, Wilde. If I have to tell you one more time, you're out of this precinct."

Nick getting threatened with unemployment is a daily occurrence, so he simply salutes and pushes the aviators onto his forehead. "Absolutely, Chiefy Weefy. Won't happen again, sir. Sorry sir. I'd just like to say sir, that scowl really brings out the seriousness in your eyes, sir-"

"STUFF IT, OFFICER!"

Nick lapses into a smug silence, and Judy has to bite her tongue to keep from giggling. They'll probably be on parking duty for a week for that. He's a mess, but he's her mess.

The cape buffalo shuffles his papers and glances at the officers still by his side, beginning to speak in a low, ominous voice. "This morning, Detectives DelGato and Katz have brought it to my attention that we now have enough evidence to proceed with the FurFlung investigation. For those who have not kept up with the case, or are hearing about it for the first time, dispatch called in a noise complaint at FurFlung nightclub nearly two years ago. We received an anonymous tip later that the club was engaging in trafficking and illegal prostitution, and that many of the girls have been reported missing by their families in recent months, so it's very possible this is not an operation based on consent."

Judy could put it together from there. Foxes weren't the only mammals with certain reputations, and felines were notorious for engaging in the trafficking business more often than other species, particularly in the flesh department. So that meant DelGato and Katz were best suited to go undercover, scouting out the tips, rumours and complaints surrounding FurFlung night club.

She did know about the call, because she'd been there when Clawhauser picked up the phone (and Judy always suspected the suspiciously muffled voice was really Finnick. In exchange for Nick looking the other way on some of his more harmless schemes, the Fennec fox had agreed to be an informant of sorts for the precinct).

That was the last she'd heard of it though, before today.

According to the rest of Bogo's report, they'd went in with the works- wires, bugs, hidden cameras, recording pens, marked bills- and discovered that there was indeed an illegal trafficking ring being run out of the club, involving animals of all species and classifications.

"It's a moveable hareem set up," DelGato growls. "The girls are shunted from club to club, word is sent to the underground, and the sleazebags line up at the back entrance for a few nights. Then they pack up to a new host location and start it up again. FurFlung is the main command center."

Judy scoots over a few inches and nudges Nick's foot with her own to get his attention. "Did you know about this?" she breathes. Nick may have been a criminal, but he had morals, and she can't imagine him knowing about something like that and not saying or doing anything about it.

The knot in her stomach uncoils when he gives a small shake of his head. Up front, Bogo is still talking.

"Detective Katz was informed by one of the organisers that the operation will be stopping at FurFlung tonight. I have conferred with City Hall, and a decision has been reached- we will uproot this disgusting business at the source," Bogo snarls, slamming his fist down hard on the podium. "At twenty three hundred hours, Officers DelGato and Grizzoli will enter the club as customers. When they give the all clear, a squadron of backup units will move in and secure both the girls and the perpetrators. These units will be..."

 _Please,_ Judy thinks, _please please please. Please._ She wants this so badly she can taste it.

"Fangmire, Katz, Phurson, McHorn, Torro..."

He wouldn't leave her out. He wouldn't do this to her, he just wouldn't. She's proved herself, he knows she can do this, he wouldn't-

"-Woolinski, Hopps, and Wilde."

Her blood is rushing so fast in her skull Judy almost doesn't hear her last name, but it breaks through right when she thinks she's about to explode. She has to restrain herself from leaping onto the table and singing a gospel chorus. Nick starts to smile, but then Bogo says one last thing that sends a chill racing down her spine and wipes the expression clean off his muzzle.

"Detective Katz mentioned that many of the girls appeared drugged or impaired. It's very possible that this operation is connected to the lingering Night Howler trade, so we're all going to take a draft of antidote before commencing, no acceptions." He glowers at them. "Stay sharp and follow infection procedure. All who's name was called, you're off the beat today, but I still want you around. Dismissed."

Chairs scrape against the floor as everyone files out of the bullpen. Judy makes a beeline for her and Nick's shared desk with the fox following more slowly behind her.

"I can't believe it," she laughs, spinning in her rolly seat. "A _bust,_ Nick! A real live bust!" This is _proof,_ proof that the department doesn't think what happened with Bellweather was a fluke or a stroke of dumb luck. They really think she can do this.

"Night howler," Nick grumbles darkly. "Why does it always come back to friggin' night howler? Who thought it was a good idea to start selling shit that makes people go psycho?" He grinds his teeth, jaw twitching. "It's not even getting high. Getting high I understand. Why would anyone _want_ to feel like a bloodthirsty killing machine?"

Judy tamps down her enthusiasm in the face of his muted anger and reaches across the desk to grip his bunched bicep. "It'll be alright, Nick. We'll take the antidote, and everything will be fine."

He relaxes under her touch. She can see him wrestling with his pessimism before it escapes as a resigned sigh, and the smile that was slashed by the mention of night howler returns slowly as his shoulders droop. "Alright, Carrots. I'll refrain from pointing out the obvious and crushing your upbeat attitude just this once."

"Gee, thanks." Judy deadpans, cutting her eyes at him. "How very passive aggressive of you."

"It's my specialty." He starts to fiddle with the little radio they also share and Judy goes back to bouncing in her seat as they wait for the nurse to arrive from the hospital and administer the antidote. After a while she boots up her computer and looks up the floor plan of FurFlung, setting herself to studying it until her eyes bled if that was what it took to make this bust go off without a hitch, for both her sanity and Nick's.

This is the first step on the rest of their careers. Nothing will go wrong.

Nothing.

* * *

Judy can firmly say with one hundred per cent accurate conviction that the next 14 hours are the longest she's ever had to endure in her existence. She thinks she wouldn't be this close to losing her sanity if Bogo hadn't taken them off patrol and given her something to occupy herself, but that's risky and she grudgingly accepts that. The last thing they need is to stop someone for a speeding ticket and have that same mammal recognize them later at the club and send everything to hell.

So they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Until finally it's nearing nine thirty, the sun is slipping beneath the horizon outside, and Bogo emerges from his office into the front of the station to inform them somberly that it's time. Grizzoli and DelGato strip out of their uniforms and leave for the club in civvies with wires threaded through their buttons while the rest of them don themselves in ZPDSWAT vests and layers of Kevlar. Nick and Judy are given the task of making sure every available, vulnerable patch of flesh and fur is covered on their fellow officers, one that Judy takes to with relish and determination. No one's going savage on her watch.

If she triple checks Nick at possibly the expense of Woolinski's midriff, she doesn't think anyone would blame her. The thought of losing him in any way, even just mentally, puts a taste in her mouth and a blade in her heart that she knows she couldn't live with. As usual, whenever her mind surprises her with thoughts like that, she pushes them to the back of her skull and resolves to think about them later. (Needless to say, it's getting crowded in there.)

Their squadron takes unmarked SUV's' to the border of Tundra Town, where FurFlung is situated. The few jokes Nick tries to crack fall flat and short, until even he's silent. Judy's nerves and thoughts have reached a strange state of primed and poised, yet calm as well, as they near their destination. She's hot and cool, Yin and Yang, and she can do this.

They park a block away. Even from there, they can see the colored spot lights and feel the thumping of the bass music through the floor of the car. They crowd around the speaker, listening for the signal to be given.

Grizzoli and DelGato pass the doorman with no trouble. Judy leans forward and stretches her hearing to its limit to hear their voices past the deafening music. Beside her, Nick's paws are balled into tight fists, totally still. She feels the urge to grab one, but she refrains at the last minute, not wanting to throw off whatever he's doing to prepare himself for what's about to happen.

 _ **"*Ah, my feline friend! Back again, I see. Welcome, welcome. You brought company?"**_

 _ **"*What can I say, Raymond. You intrigued me. This is Magnus. He was interested in my stories and wants to see if he could get his feet wet.*"**_

 _ **"*Of course, of course. Perhaps you'll sample my humble wares before deciding to invest? I'm sure we have something that'll tickle your fancy.*"**_

 _ **"*I'm sure you do.*"**_

 _ **"*Right this way, gentlemen.*"**_

 _ **"*After you, Chief.*"**_

"That's it," Judy shivers, signalling the rest and jumping out of her seat. "He said it, he said _Chief_." Nick snatches for the nearest walkie talkie almost before she's done and hails Bogo's frequency. She notices he's shaking slightly.

"Chief is in. I repeat, the chief is in. Over."

A hiss of static, and then-

 ** _"*Bogo in, Copy. All ZPD units, move in to back exit and follow previously outlined procedure, over.*"_**

Judy's chest seizes- she can't breathe- her limbs lock- her vision whites out-

The car door flies open.

"GO GO GO GO GO!"

They're across the street in milliseconds. Mchorn charges down the locked entrance, the music and lights swamp her senses, and then the gleam of the snow outside is replaced by flashes of darkness and blinding strobe lasers. Judy's head is empty and full all at once. She can feel her lungs working overtime, but she can't remember the last time she took a breath. Her heartbeat's in her ears, thick and all consuming. A flick of red-

Nick's tail. Nick. She has to keep up with Nick. No matter what, she has to stay with Nick.

Down the stairs- to the right- stairs again-

Nick. She has to stay...

"ZPD, FREEZE! PAWS IN THE AIR!"

Judy blinks, and it all comes back in an almost painful rush of lights and sound and awareness as adrenaline floods her brain. She's standing in a parlour type room, ladden with pillows and silk cushions and screaming, half naked girls. The air is salty and heavy with sex and pheromones and sickly saccharine perfume that barely covers either.

Her sweaty paws are vice gripped around the handle of her gun, pointed dead center in the chest of a lynx with his arms raised and his fangs bared. Around her, Mchorn and Grizzoli have someone in an arm bar each, and DelGato is working on subduing a panther. Woolinski's position matches her own, keeping the five other mammals from reaching for the hilts in their waistbands.

"HOPPS! WILDE! PERIMETER CHECK!"

Phurson pulls his taser and downs the lynx, freeing Judy to leap over his spasming body and make for the metal door on the opposite side of the parlour. Nick's an inch in front of her. She hears the scream and the pop of the gunshot seconds before they enter what appears to be a barren dressing room, and then she's staring down the barrel of a pistol.

"FUCK!"

She hears the curse, sees the hammer drop back in slow motion. There's nothing she can do to avoid it.

"FUCKING-!"

There's a blur of russet and white. Nick SOARS towards the ram, tackling him at the knees and throwing both of them to the ground. The gun goes flying, and Judy chases after it on reflex, throwing it out of the closest open window she sees before redirecting her taser on the mammal grappling with her partner. She gets a clear shot to the thigh and takes it, smiling grimly as he collapses, jerking and drooling.

Just like that, it's all over. Everything goes mostly quiet, except for the sobs of the girls. Now that the immediate threat has been taken care of, Judy notices the moving figures surrounding them- more girls, females of all species. All of them are secured to the rough walls by their wrists either with rope or duct tape or a combination of the two, with thin blankets tossed haphazardly over their bodies. The room stinks like bile and urine and the coppery tang of blood. There's a small washtub in the corner and, randomly, a few scattered makeup items on the floor.

Nick struggles to his feet and kicks the twitching ram in the gut, snarling ferociously. "You're under arrest, you son of a bitch."

The mammal spits out a cracked molar at Nick's feet and gives him a bloody smile. "T-traitor...f-fuckin' f-fox b-b-bastard..."

Judy holsters her weapon and watches as Nick handcuffs the nearly unconscious ram. Now that the adrenaline is fading, her knees feel weak and wobbly, and her head is floating. A warm sensation on her shoulder brings her back down to earth a little. Nick is gasping, bracing himself on her, supporting them both. For a split moment, they lean against each other, trembling and recuperating.

Nick is the first one to speak. "Who owes who on the 'saving each other's life' tab again?" he wheezes, shaking his head. "I'm losing count."

Judy laughs, and Bogo's yell shatters the brief respite, echoing from the previous room. "Officers Wilde and Hopps, report! Do you require assistance?"

Judy does a quick headcount and rubs excess sweat out of her eyes. "All clear. We've got one neutralized perpetrator and approximately seventeen hostages."

"Roger that." The buffalo sounds impressed, and Judy's spirit does a jig. They DID IT. "Ambulances are inbound."

"We should get them out of here," Nick mutters, glancing at the girls while Grizzoli comes in to take the ram back the way they came. The expression on his face is one of fury and sympathy that makes Judy's heart clench.

"Agreed."

He squeezes her shoulder one last time, and then they both get to work.

Judy's stomach lurches when she reaches the first girl, a sweet faced sow, and discovers that she was the recipient of the ram's first and only shot. The slug went in through her jaw and came out her temple, spattering the grey concrete behind her head with crimson. Judy doesn't feel the need to check for a pulse. She drags a paw over the sow's empty eyes to close them and moves down the line, this time to a vixen that looks frozen with fear.

She tries to make her tone as reassuring and comforting as possible as she gently unwinds the tape from around the vixen's arms. "Everything's going to be okay now. My name is Officer Judy Hopps, and over there is my partner, Nicholas Wilde. We're with the ZPD, and we're going to help you."

"Z...ZPD?"

"Yes, ma'am, Zootopia Police Department."

"W-Wilde...N...N-Nicky?"

The name is soft and hesitant, so much so that Judy, listening to Nick repeat her statement on the other side of the room, damnear misses it. When her ears catch up to her brain, she stills and turns her head upwards, gaping at the fox in front of her.

It's hard to tell in the dark room, and her features are disfigured by black and blue swelling and bruises and further obscured by the layers of concealer heaped over the weeping markings, but the vixen looks slightly older than Nick is. She has shiny pink weals and irritated patches of skin where her fur has been sheared or plucked out, but the rest of it is a rusty dark red, almost indistinguishable from the color of the dried blood caked into the side of her battered face. The damp, sheer dress she's wearing doesn't cover anything or hide the dark marks on her too thin thighs, nor disguise the sharp lines of her ribs pressing against her chest. The edges of her lips are stained with a blue liquid that carries the sweetly bitter stench of crushed nighthowler.

Her eyes, hazy and a bit unfocused as they are, are fixated on a point past Judy's head- eyes that are mostly bright, verdant green with a hint of brown around the edges.

Judy whips her neck around when she hears Nick's gasp. The raw emotion and shock in his eyes and face stuns her. He looks like he's been shot in the chest. She sees him drop to one knee and lose his grip on his own taser, shaking like a leaf in the wind. She doesn't even think he knows that sounds are coming out of his mouth, but she hears the name all too clearly.

"... _Vickie?"_

 _..._

 _..._

* * *

 _"Who said that to you?"_

 _Watching the sun set on another day of patrol, Nick cranes his neck around and pushes up his sunglasses to meet Judy's eyes as the last of the bloody light filters in through the tinted cruiser windshield._

 _"Who said what, Carrots?"_

 _"That thing, about never letting anyone see that they get to you. I know it's random, but..." Judy shrugs, trying to hide her embarrased bristle as a lazy smirk steals across the fox's face. "I was just thinking back to those first few days. That sounds like something someone might have said to you."_

 _"Getting nostalgic, Jude? You don't think I'm smart enough to make my own mottos?"_

 _Judy just LOOKS at him, narrowing her eyes and cocking an eyebrow. Nick snorts a laugh, then leans back against the headrest. "Alright, yeah. Someone did say that to me. I didn't magically come up with it by my genius self. Happy?"_

 _Judy punches him lightly in the arm. "Who said it? Your mom?"_

 _Nick doesn't answer for a while, and when he does, his voice is subdued. She can feel the walls slowly coming down with each syllable. "...No. Not mom. My sister."_

 _"You have a sister?" Judy echoes, hushed._

 _"Had." Nick says, smirking bitterly. "She was older than me. She vanished when I was a kit. Just didn't come back one day. Everybody thought she ran away, but..." he pushes a hard breath between his teeth and gives his head a brisk shake._

 _Judy is afraid to speak, as if the smallest sound from her will bring those impenetrable walls back up and he'll be closed off from her forever. "What...what was her name?"_

 _Nick rubs a paw over his chest like it aches. "Victoria."_

 _"Pretty," Judy says. Nick shrugs._

 _"Mmhm. But it was kind of a mouthful for a five year old, so I always used to call her Vickie."_

* * *

 _..._

Well.

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Nick**

Nick stands on the curb outside the club and watches the ambulances drive away with a hollow, ringing feeling reverberating in his cranium, like the vibrations that shiver through a bell long after its been hit.

He doesn't know what time it is, but he thinks it's late. Or early. He doesn't know. Wait- he's thought that already.

Is he going into shock? He thinks he might be, or maybe he already did. He's seen shock as a cop, and as a hustler, and on those crappy detective shows Judy makes him watch on the rare occasions she invites him over for NutFlix and frozen entrees. He thinks he remembers hearing that shock can kill you, but he can't be certain.

Is memory loss a symptom of shock? Maybe.

He's frozen, and not just from the icy breeze knifing through his fur and evaporating the perspiration from earlier. All feeling is scooped out, like the stringy crap inside a pumpkin. He should be cold, but he isn't. He should be...

Happy. Exuberant. Ecstatic. Amazed. Sobbing with joy and jumping up and down to a hallelujah chorus.

Only he isn't.

He can hear Judy whispering fiercely with Bogo behind him, and feel both their searingly pity filled gazes burning into his fur. An emotion rises in him, and he's surprised at himself to discover that it's anger, curling his claws into his palms.

He doesn't want them muttering about him behind his back, talking about things that are none of their business and looking at him like he was a poor rattled victim, like he hadn't swallowed bullshit his whole life and come out with a clean smile, like he hadn't been taking care of himself all these years. Like he NEEDED them to feel sorry for him.

He wasn't the one that NEEDED their help, not now.

The anger feels good, feels like SOMETHING, and something is better than nothing, so Nick clings to it as the crowd of onlookers are shooed away, as the bodies strapped to stretchers he can't bring himself to look at are brought out, one of them covered by a white sheet. He knows it's the sow, but a flare of panic still lights up his chest before he can fortify himself against it.

Hey, panic. That's two emotions recovered. He's on a roll. At this rate, he'll be back to normal in about five months.

Vans pull up and park haphazardly in front of the place, but they're not fuzz-issue. Mammals with cameras jump out; it's the media, a cop's worst nightmare.

They spot him right as Judy finishes with Bogo and makes her way back over to him, barely intercepting that chatty cheetah news host from the channel Nick doesn't watch in the mornings. The bright flashes are blinding and make his eyes water, and the noise is deafening. Nick is stunned all over again.

"Officer Wilde? Officer Wilde! Care to give us any comment on what happened here?"

His hackles raise, and a growl bubbles up in his throat, before something small yet strong grabs hold of his wrist and steers him through the mesh of recorder toting vultures. It's probably for the best. It wouldn't help his career very much if he ripped out some pushy novice reporter's jugular, especially without any night howler to blame it on.

"No comment," Judy snaps. Nick is distantly impressed. For such a small bunny, she can really part a crowd.

"But-!"

"No comment! Please, move."

Someone tosses her a pair of keys that she has to jump to catch, and she bundles him into the passenger side seat of a random cruiser that isn't theirs. The camera flashes follow them to the car, but back off quickly as Judy starts the engine and pulls off with such force that the tires squeal and the smell of burning rubber drifts in through the windows.

Nick stares blankly at the lights streaking past and listens with half an ear to Judy's mutinous muttering about nosy, gossiping amateurs. He's still staring when he realizes something.

"We need to go to the hospital."

He feels Judy tense without having to look at her. The breath she sucks in is shaky, and her next words are slow. "I don't think... that's best right now, Nick."

No, no. That's not what she's supposed to say. Maybe she didn't understand him the first time, maybe she thought he said 'out for pizza' instead.

"We need to go to the hospital, Carrots." he reiterates, still calm, turning to look at her.

Judy's paws tighten on the steering wheel. Her face is pale under her fur and she's chewing on her lower lip so hard it's drawing blood. He can smell it beading up.

"Nick-"

Okay, so he knows she heard him, he saw her ears move in his direction. She's just actually saying no. Huh.

When the anger returns, he's not prepared enough to stop himself from showing it this time. It blazes through his veins like fire. His teeth snap together LOUDLY, and his tone makes her flinch in a way he'll be guilty about later but just can't care about right then.

"Don't those stupidly long things on top of your head work?! I said-"

"I know what you said, Nick." Judy cuts him off, and amazingly she still sounds measured. Understanding. It only pisses him off more.

"It's two o clock in the morning, you're exhausted, and you haven't eaten all day." she continues, resolutely keeping her eyes on the road. "You're in no condition to go to the hospital."

"Oh, so you're a doctor now?" Nick spits. "Thank you, guardian angel. You've really got my best interests at heart."

"Bogo says-"

"Like I've EVER given a rat's ass about what Bogo thinks?! Like he gives one about me?!"

"Enough, Nick!" Judy demands shrilly. The car leaps forward, increasing dangerously in speed before she eases her foot off the gas. He can see her trying to control her own temper, hears it in her voice.

"We will go to the hospital first thing in the morning, I promise. But right now, you are going to rest and get yourself together."

Nick clenches his fangs together and snarls, claws digging holes in the upholstery of the cruiser. It isn't Judy's fault, he knows, but that only makes it worse.

The rest of the ride passes in silence, aside from the song on the radio that Nick can't identify. By the time they get back to downtown Zootopia, the numbness has set back in, along with a bone deep chill that he can't shake.

He's mildly confused when they pull up at an apartment building that isn't his. "Where are we?"

Judy shifts gears and turns off the car. "My apartment. You're staying with me tonight." Before he can react or complain, she reaches over and unbuckles his seatbelt before doing her own.

"Did Bogo tell you to do this too?" Nick asks.

Judy blushes. "No, as a matter of fact. I just... don't want you to be alone."

Nick snorts. "Didn't'cha get the memo, Carrots? Alone is my forte."

Judy steers him into the building and up the elevator. After two years of police salary, she's upgraded from Grand Pangolin to a nicer spot. It's still only a two room, living plus bed with a separate bath, but it's simple and clean and classy.

"I'll heat up some soup or something," Judy sighs. "You need a shower. You kind of stink, and if I can smell it I know you can."

"You don't smell like a basket of blueberries, either." Nick teases faintly, but there's no lightness in the jab. The wise crack is more out of routine than anything.

She shoos him toward the bathroom without glancing up from where she's pulling a pot from a lower cupboard. Nick lowers his shoulders and slouches in the direction she's pointing, unbuttoning his uniform as he goes.

The water is warm, sizzling. Nick doesn't actively scrub. He stands under the spray and leans his head against the slick tile, and blames the shower for the liquid trickling down his cheeks, regardless of the salty taste it leaves on his lips.

* * *

 **Judy**

Judy is proud that she manages to keep the tears at bay until Nick is out of the room. Once she hears the shower turn on, she loses it, sobbing gently at first while she stirs their dinner, then a bit harder, until finally she has to turn off the stove while she leans against the counter, holding a paw to her abdomen and crying like a kitten.

This isn't FAIR. Everything's supposed to be alright now. She and Nick are respected heroes. He's a cop, and a good one- a great one. He's finally getting settled in life, learning to trust people.

This isn't supposed to be happening. She's so sick of watching Nick suffer, alone and isolated in the world he's built around himself. It's like watching a lump of salt dissolve slowly away into nothing, knowing she could do absolutely nothing. He keeps getting hurt, and she just has to stand idly by.

When her tears exhaust themselves, Judy wipes her face brusquely and straightens her spine. Not this time. Sue her, but she's never been one to continue watching as someone she cares about struggle. And she DOES care about him, even though she has yet to reconcile with just how much.

She will try, regardless. Nick deserves that.

After a while, the sound of the shower stops, but there's no other noises. Five minutes pass where all she hears is rustling, and then even that fades.

Worry slashes sharp at her heart and leaves a prickling tingle in her veins. "Nick?" Judy drops the wooden spoon in her paw- an apartment warming gift from her mother- and half sprints out of the kitchen, rounding the corner so fast she nearly skids onto her face.

The door to the bathroom is cracked. Clouds of mist roll out from under the door. Nick doesn't respond, and Judy's pulse is thrumming like guitar strings.

"Nick...?"

She rests her fingers on the damp wood, and sends up a quick prayer that he's not still naked.

 _Peas and CARROTS, please don't let him still be naked_. That would make this...a little bit harder.

The door swings open. Nick is sitting on the closed toilet seat with a towel around his neck and is, thankfully, wearing boxers. He's staring again, this time at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. Judy shivers at his expression. He looks...dislocated, disconnected, like a toy robot with the batteries removed. His green eyes are glassy, his muscles are coiled, and the ends of his fur are trembling. He looks like he should be crying, but he isn't, and that's more disturbing than seeing him weep would be.

Judy clears her throat and calls his name one more time, relieved when her voice doesn't warble. "Nick? You okay?"

He blinks, and gazes at her with a shocked look like he'd completely forgotten she was in the apartment, despite the fact that she knows he must have smelled her coming.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Didn't mean to hog it." he says jerkily, rising slowly to his feet.

She shakes her head and gestures for him to follow her down the hall towards her bedroom, deciding on the spot that eating may not be in the cards right then.

"Judy?"

"Yeah?"

"Your ears aren't stupid. I was being an ass."

Judy swallows thickly, straining to keep the fresh influx of tears back. "I know, Nick. It's fine."

She rummages through her drawers and finds an oversized sleeping shirt, passing it to him. "You can sleep here for tonight. I'll... take the couch. If you get hungry, dinner's in the fridge."

He almost looks like he's going to protest, but he ultimately takes the shirt, pulls it over his head, and crawls beneath her covers. He looks so frail, so broken, and Judy nearly fluffing loses it.

"Good night, Nick."

"...g'night. Thanks, Carrots."

Gulping back sniffles, Judy pads into the kitchen and pours herself a bowl of soup, managing only three bites before giving up and settling down on the couch. Barking Bad plays on the muted TV, but all of her attention is on the fox in the other room.

* * *

 **Nick**

The bed is nice, nicer than his at least. It's got so much cushion in it, Nick feels like he's sinking with every movement. He twists and turns and tosses, but sleep continuously evades him and flashes him a double fisted bird for good measure.

Nick pushes his nose in the pillows. Maybe if he smothers himself into unconsciousness, when he wakes up, this will all be some fucked up dream.

He figures it's worth a try. He inhales deeply, mushing his face down harder until the edges of the pillow graze his ears. The sheets smell like Judy, the soap she uses and the warm sweet scent of rabbit underneath.

Would she smell that good to him if she weren't a bunny? Probably. It's pleasant, but still strange. He isn't used to any other scent than his own where he sleeps, and it's been that way forever.

 _(-except it wasn't always that way. They had shared a bed when times were toughest, curled into a small ginger pile of fluff and fur against the icy draft whistling in from the broken window with the plastic over it, snoozing while they waited for mom to get back from the second late shift. Her tail was his pillow, and Nick snuggled closer to the warmth trapped nearer to her chest and breathed her in... She smelled a little like mom and a little like him and a lot like herself, and that was what put him to sleep the quickest. She smells safe, like family, like..._

 _'You cold, Nicky?'_

 _'Nah. M'alright-')_

Nick presses his knuckles to his temples until lights flash behind his lids. He doesn't want to remember, so he sucks in another Judy flavored breath and pictures the bunny stretched out on her bed reading, shining her badge, chatting on the phone, anything.

"Hey..."

Nick pokes his head out from under the covers and scans the room, his night vision immediately zeroing in on the short figure in the doorway. Judy's arms are by her sides and her nose is scrunched in a way that she won't admit is adorable.

"You haven't been to sleep at all. I can hear you rolling around in here." she informs him, a tad grumpily.

"Sorry," Nick blurts instinctively. "I'll try to keep my nocturnal insomnia from cutting into your beauty rest."

Her forehead wrinkles up like a mastiff's, and her nose takes on certain similarities to oragami. "I never said that, Nick. Don't be a jerk."

"Impossible." Nick replies. Judy shuffles her feet and crosses her arms over her stomach like it's bothering her.

"Did you want to... Sometimes it helps my siblings, when they have nightmares, but you might not be okay with it."

"What?" Somehow, he doesn't think she's talking about hitting the spank bank.

"Um..." He can see and smell her blush from across the room, and he's left curious and slightly disappointed when all she does is shake her head.

"N-nevermind. I'll see you in the... Yeah."

"Yeah," Nick echoes. The loneliness creeps back in after she leaves, and fitful sleep finally arrives what seems like eons later.

The next time he wakes up, he's got an armful of carrot body wash scented fluff pressed up against him. Nick goes stiff with shock and considers getting out of the bed, but then, as if sensing his surprise, Judy mumbles something in her sleep and clutches him tighter.

"Alright... Got... _Hhmph_. Nick."

It's not the most intelligible sentence he's ever heard uttered, but he gets the gist of it. Nick sighs deep in his lungs and lets his eyes flutter shut.

Tomorrow's going to be a shit show, but at least, tonight, for a moment, he isn't alone.

* * *

 **(A/N: Follows and faves are AWESOME, but reviews are AWESOMER!)**


	3. Chapter 3

_"Vickie."_

 _"What?"_

 _"What's that?"_

 _The slight young vixen glanced up from the huge, dented silver pot she was stirring with a crooked plastic spoon and peered through a haze of smoke at the kit seated at the tiny table in the room that served as kitchen, dining room, and living room in their cramped dwelling. She couldn't have been more than eleven, and he was around five or six._

 _"You'll find out when you're done with that math." she said, removing the spoon and waving it tantalizingly in front of the kit's snout. He stuck out his tongue to catch a drop of the milky liquid clinging to the utensil, and she pretended to smack him on the nose with it._

 _"Don't be nasty, Nick."_

 _"You should just let me eat now," the little boy offered sagely. "If you loved me, you would."_

 _"You had an apple for lunch."_

 _"That wasn't enough!"_

 _"You know the rules, Nicky." the girl told him firmly. "Homework first, then dinner. Otherwise you'll get sleepy and won't want to finish."_

 _"It doesn't matter if I finish." Nick said glibly. "Miss Ramsey said school won't help foxes anyway. I'll just be a factory worker like daddy was."_

 _He jumped when Vickie slammed the spoon down on the stovetop and whirled around, teeth bared in anger. "She said that to you?" When he nodded, she growled. "That saggy sheep can go to hell."_

 _"Vickie!" Nick yelped, delighted. "Bad words!"_

 _"I don't care," Vickie growled. "She had no right to tell you that. You're smart, smarter than any other kit in this neighbourhood. The whole city, probably."_

 _Nick looked down, flushing with pleasure. "No I'm not."_

 _"Yes, you are." She walked over to his chair and placed a paw between his ears, fiery hazel eyes softening as he purred and nuzzled into her touch. "School matters, Nicky, especially for us. It matters to me, and to to mama. You have to be smart so you can have a better life, and show people that...that we can do good things, okay?"_

 _"We can be good, Nick. You can."_

 _"Okay, Vickie."_

* * *

 **Judy**

When Judy's eyes pry themselves open hours later, there's a brief, blissful moment where she doesn't register anything past the sheets bundled around her and the faint honey colored beams of sunlight filtering in through the blinds, warming her nose.

For a few wonderful seconds, it's the start of a regular day.

Her radio alarm is going to start blasting the newest Gazelle song to wake her up fully, the coffee maker will turn on automatically after that, and Nick will send her an obnoxious good morning text complete with moving pictures and sound.

Nick...

Who's scent is somehow directly beneath her face, in her bed. For a second, Judy wonders if she's having another one of those (perfectly normal for a healthy female bunny with regular urges and an attractive partner, thankyouverymuch) dreams, but as time passes and nothing... sensual begins to happen, she drifts out of her sleepy haze a bit-

 _'Vickie?!'_

And everything that happened slams into her with the speed and force of a Mack truck, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Raid. Club. Vixen. Hospital. Nick.

 _NICK_. Who slept over the night before. Nick, who is still in her apartment, or should be, at least. But she doesn't hear anything besides her own rapidly quickening breath.

' _Cheese and CRACKERS-!'_

Judy gasps so fast her ribs protest at the harsh, sudden inflation. She sits bolt upright in bed and fights her covers for the freedom of her limbs before giving up and just rolling onto the floor, taking everything with her and letting gravity separate rabbit from bedsheets. She bounds into the hallway, ears perked and desperate for any sound of movement or activity.

' _Fluff, FLUFF, you dumb fluffing-'_

She prays he was still in the apartment. Bogo had SPECIFICALLY said to not leave Nick's side and give him a chance to do something stupid, because he wasn't thinking straight.

Here she was, dozing the morning away, while her emotionally compromised partner could be getting thrown out of the hospital, or beating the shiznit out of suspects at the precinct, or aimlessly wandering the streets, or... or...

The bottom of her feet burn as Judy slides into the main room- panting, fur disheveled, violet eyes wild and panicked- only to find Nick perched calmly on the couch with the remote in his hand, returning her frantic stare with one of dry amusement and surprise.

His eyebrow travels up his forehead, and he tilts his neck to the side. "Where's the fire, Carrots?"

Judy bends over at the waist, partly to catch her breath, but mostly to hide the foolish blush sizzling the fuzz on her cheeks. "I t-thought... you'd... left."

Nick doesn't smile, but his lips tilt upward in a ghost of the familiar expression. "Well, that's what you get for thinking."

Judy huffs quietly, chagrined. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Nick looks... better, than the night before. Or maybe that's wishful thinking, and he's just hiding it more efficiently. She has a strong, sneaking suspicion that it's the latter. There isn't much he can do to cover the deep, bruise colored shadows clinging to the underside of his eyelids, in any case. His knee is jiggling nervously, up and down, up and down, his tail is rigid, and he's reflexively mashing the buttons on the remote in his paw without paying a lick of attention to what he was supposed to be watching.

"I wasn't sure I could." he replies. "Didn't have a bullhorn handy."

Judy steadfastly ignores the jab and straightens her pajama shirt, wincing as she runs her tongue around her mouth, tasting her own breath. Her blush worsens when she remembers the impulsive decision she'd made- fluff, she hopes she wasn't breathing that into Nick's face all night.

"Just give me five minutes," Judy pleads. "We'll go as soon as I throw something on." Site needs to shake the wrinkles out of her uniform and at least 'brush her dentures', as her father would say. She knows he's anxious to leave- UNDERSTATEMENT of the CENTURY- but she really, really does not want him to go alone.

Nick's muzzle folds into a frown, and the fur on his shoulders bristles beneath his uniform shirt. "Yeah...about that. I'm a big fox, I don't really need an escort. I was just waiting to say thanks, and catch you later."

Judy balks at him, bewildered. "Nick, you're not going alone."

Nick's conviction doesn't budge. He crosses his arms over his chest, and Judy can see that she's got another fight on her hands. "Hopps, seriously. I appreciate last night, really, I do. Can't thank you enough. But this is something I have to do by my lonesome," he stresses, standing as if to walk out right then.

Judy plunks her paws on her hips, scoffing. "I'm on this case. I'm going to the hospital."

"Fine, just not with me." he retorts.

"I have the keys to the cruiser." Judy informs him. "What are you gonna do, walk?"

Nick's smile is brittle and too wide. His teeth gleam, and his ears press flat against his skull. "Hey, walking's healthy. Cardio and all that bullshit, right?"

"You'll be mobbed before you make it half a block." Judy closes her eyes briefly and inhales, trying to keep a hold on her temper. There's a sharp wrenching feeling in her chest. Nick is basically telling her he doesn't want her with him, and...it hurts, more than she'd care to admit out loud. The old Judy might have quailed under that painful declaration and meekly let him leave her behind to avoid damaging their tentative relationship.

But she'd made up her mind exactly eight hours ago. Nick would not be alone through this, not if she could conceivably help it. Those walls were coming down and staying down, dammit.

"I was there, Nick," she says after a while, voice tight and muted with emotion. "Remember? I saw those girls. I...I have to. They need..." The back of her eyes burn and her vision goes shiny as she recalls the sow with a bullet in her brain, and the terror, the unadulterated pain in that vixen's eyes...

 _'N-Nicky?'_

She has to swallow twice before she can speak. "I saw her, Nick. I know... I know how this must be for you." He doesn't reply. Judy takes a step forward until they're sharing each other's personal space and stares at him until he makes eye contact. It's only for a small second before he's looking away, but it's enough for her.

"We'll figure this out, okay?" she breathes, heart turning agonized flips in her throat. "I promise you, we will figure out why this happened. We. US. You and me, together, as partners, because I'm going. And that's final."

Nick is quiet for a long, long time, so long that a part of Judy begins to worry that he's going to lash out again, or something worse. Ultimately, he lets out a shuddering exhale and sinks slowly back down onto the couch, shaking his head. "Five minutes," he grunts, halving her projected time. "Five, or I'm getting my power walking weights and leaving your fluffy behind, BEHIND."

"Four," Judy chirps brightly, dashing back towards the bedroom section. She nearly levitates with how fast she slathers a layer of deodorant under her arms, gargles with a mixture of toothpaste, water, and mouthwash, and changes back into her blues. Her guts are jumping with nerves and apprehension, but she sticks to her decision to do this with Nick, for Nick.

The fox is pacing a rut in her living room floor by the time she re-enters the room, keys to the cruiser jangling in paw. "Ready?"

She expects a quip, something along the lines of 'my grey hairs certainly seem to think so', but all Nick does is gulp and nod once, turning for the door.

* * *

 **Nick**

Zootopia general is the largest species inclusive hospital in the city, catering to predators and prey and everyone in between. Nick drags himself out of his own head long enough to be extremely grateful for their cop status as Judy circles around the ambulance traffic and civilian parking structures to use the special police section. The only reason he isn't driving is because he never officially earned a driver's license (he's working on it, but he's convinced the precinct instructor is speciesist towards foxes. No one else believes him, shockingly).

It's probably better. They would have blown every light and would most likely be dragging the corpses of the pedestrians he would have no doubt run over in his haste to get there behind them.

Nick is out of the car and to the entrance before the engine has a chance to stop running, and Judy has to jog to catch up to him and his longer legs.

He doesn't know what he expects to see the instant he crosses the threshold, but it certainly isn't Bogo and DelGato, both of their large frames crammed into waiting room chairs much too small for them. They stand when they notice him, Judy a footstep behind him, and DelGato gives him a weak sort of smile that looks like it's maybe supposed to be encouraging but in reality just makes Nick feel sick. He's not really sure why the lion is there...DelGato and he have the usual predator-predator amiable attitude towards each other, but past that, Nick doesn't even know his first name.

"Chief?" he coughs, shocked. "What...?"

The buffalo rumbles deep in his chest and fixes him with a scowl. "I'm the commanding officer of this precinct and on this case, Wilde. Did you honestly believe I wouldn't be here?"

Right. Right, there are other girls, other than...

Something about that statement just... needles Nick, but he can't quite put his finger on why. There's a light pressure in the back of his mind and behind his lungs, and he's feeling slightly itchy under his fur.

"What's happening now?" Judy pipes up at his side. Nick has to restrain himself from taking a step away from her.

"We're waiting for the doctor," DelGato tells her, and what do you know, speak of the devil, because as soon as the words are out of his mouth, an official looking hippo in a white lab coat and blue scrubs waddles over to them, clutching a clipboard.

"My name is Dr. Tubman. Am I to assume that you're all here from the ZPD?" he asks. Nick has to blink to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Seriously.

"Were the uniforms your first clue?"

Judy stomps on his foot HARD, but he barely feels it. Bogo's scowl deepens, and the look on his face is a warning. "Yes, we are. I am Chief Thaddeous Bogo, and these are my primary officers on the FurFlung investigation."

"Judy Hopps," the doctor says, with a kind smile at the bunny by Nick's side. "Yes, I recognize you." The look he levels at Nick is much less friendly, but he can't bring himself to notice much or care.

"What can you tell us about the girls?" Bogo cuts in brusquely. Dr Tubman nods and waves them away from the bustling main entrance.

"In all, twenty three girls were delivered in ambulances here." he begins, adjusting the winking glasses perched on the end of his wide snout. "Eight predators, and fifteen prey." Nick's heart convulses at 'predator', but he's sure no one notices.

"A sow was shot fatally prior to arriving, and was declared beyond help on scene." Tubman continues. "Her family has been notified The others are currently being treated for varying injures. We checked the police database, and as of now we've identified seven of them as mammals that have been reported missing in Zootopia in the last five months."

Nick's vision is telescoping at this point, and there's a strange whistle sound drowning out his thoughts.

It's hot in the room, he hadn't realized before. It's very hot in the room. The conversation takes place around and over him like the tide.

"Three of them are awake, if you'd like to speak to them."

"Which ones?"

"Erm... Kelly Mawson, Melanie O'Gnaw, and one coyote that intensified herself as...ah, 'Rachel'. I'll have an orderly take you to their rooms."

"Thank you. Hopps, I want you and Wilde to... Wilde. Wilde!"

Pain rockets through his ulna as stubby claws dig into the juncture of Nick's elbow and bicep. Nick flinches and looks down and around, to where a big pair of lavender lenes are staring hard into his own green eyes. He slowly raises his chin to meet Bogo's disturbed glare, and a lick of electric irritation lashes at his heart.

"Keep your head on straight, Wilde." Bogo mumbles, and Nick is even more annoyed when he hears the undertone of pity struggling to hide itself in the buffalo's words.

He grits his teeth and forces his lips to spread into a grin that hurts his cheeks. "Will do, Chief."

A nurse comes to lead DelGato and Bogo away. Tubman starts to turn back to the front desk, and before Nick can say anything Judy clears her throat loudly to redraw his attention. "Excuse me, Dr Tubman?"

The hippo spins to face them, clearly surprised. "Officer Hopps. Aren't you going with them?"

"N-no, we aren't. We're here to inquire about another patient." Judy explains, foot thumping a rapid, nervous beat on the shiny tiles. All of Nick's blood is sloshing noisily in his skull.

Tubman shrugs and lifts a piece of paper away from the clipboard. "Name?"

Nick's mind blanks, and he starts to inexplicably panic. His tongue freezes. He hasn't...he hasn't said her name in...he doesn't think he can.

Judy flicks her eyes at him and nudges Nick gently between the shoulder blades, dislodging the sounds stuck in his throat. It sounds and feels like liquid sandpaper coming out, tearing up and through his vocal cords.

He takes a breath in, but it doesn't reach his lungs. "V-Victoria W-Wilde." At the doctors puzzled look, Nick chews on his tongue and spits out a clarification. They hadn't even bothered to IDENTIFY her. "The v-vixen."

Dr Tubman slowly lowers the paper and fixes Nick with an unreadable expression. "Wilde." he echoes. "Officer... ah. I see...wife?"

"...Sister." The correction is a whisper. Any louder and he'd be screaming. Belatedly, he wonders if he's still asleep, if any of this is even happening at all.

"...I see," the doctor says again. "Well, ah, she isn't...her condition was one of the more...extreme cases. I doubt very much if you'd want to..."

A red pulse throbs behind Nick's eyeballs. It feels like someone is cooking his intestines over a campfire. "I. Need. To. See. Her." he grinds out, russet fur bristled to nearly twice it's usual volume, muscles tensed to snap. It's been a long, long time since he was this angry, felt this out of control of himself. He's barely keeping it together.

There's a flash of fear in the doctor's mud brown eyes. "Now, look now, Officer, for her own safety-"

 _Her safety!?_

Out of his peripheral vision, Nick sees a timber wolf security guard inching towards them with a surly frown, paw hovering over his belt. Nick catches the acrid scent of Judy's fear as it spikes, and she speaks hurriedly to the doctor, digging her nails deeper into Nick's arm until there's a danger of drawing blood.

"Please," she snaps. "It's... this is a very intricate situation. Please."

Tubman closes his mouth with a hard click. Whatever he sees in her eyes must convince him, or maybe it's the growl fighting to claw its way out of Nick's diaphragm. He wordlessly waves away the looming security guard and beckons for them to follow him down a long hall. Nick feels like he's floating. His insides are hot and roiling, but his limbs are the opposite, cold and faraway from his brain, operating on their own steam without any input from him.

They come to the last door at the end of the dimly lit hall after passing a sign emblazoned with ICU. The green curtain is pulled over the large window that looks into the room. The sour stench of pain hovers over the entire area. Nick's ears swivel to catch the moans and strangled sobs emanating from the rooms on either side. A shudder rattles down his spine.

"I think it might be best to warn you before you go in." Tubman says. "We're not sure exactly how long she was with...those people-"

 _I do_ , Nick thinks. _I do._

"-but the damage was extensive. She has multiple fractures, sprains, and badly healed breaks, mostly her ribs, ankles, and wrists. Her humorous was broken very badly at some point. Multiple contusions and wounds to her back, face, and legs, some of them infected. Bruising, both external and internal. One of her ears was nearly severed...we had to stitch most of it back on..."

The doctor goes on and on, and Nick can sense himself getting more and more distant from the situation. Judy's grip on his arm is the only thing keeping him from...from-

"There was also evidence of..." Tubman fingers his clipboard and dips his head, lowering his voice. "Of repeated and recent sexual assault." Nick's tail spasms, and Judy's claws, if possible, burrow even deeper into his flesh.

"Stop," she chokes-

"No." Nick rasps, wide eyed and hoarse. He needs to know.

Dr Tubman hooks a tooth over his lip, but haltingly continues at a nod from Nick. "From the scarring, we think that it was occurring over a long period of time. There's also reason to believe that she may have been pregnant at one time and wasn't able to carry it to term. Besides that, she's dehydrated, malnourished, and there were traces of NH 3158 in her system, a diluted and altered formula derived from the Night Howler syrum. We're still looking into that, though,-"

"I'm going in."

Nick's own voice doesn't reach his ears until a few seconds after Judy turns and gapes at him like he's lost his mind. Her yelp, when it comes, is shrill with disbelief.

"Nick, that's not...she's not awake, she's-"

"Let me go." he commands, dangerously calm. He doesn't want to hurt her, he really doesn't, but he might if she doesn't listen and let him go. The doctor watches, clearly on edge, as Judy makes a noise somewhere between a plead and a sob and slowly removes her paw from his arm, moisture clinging to her long lashes.

"I can't let you in," Tubman says quickly, "she's in very bad shape. But I can let you see her from out here."

Nick nods again, and the hippo raps his thick knuckles on the wood. Someone inside, presumably a nurse, draws back the curtains. Nick squares his shoulders and clenches his fists before forcing himself to look inside.

Whatever he's expecting... it isn't that.

The vixen in the bed is debilitated and weak, pale and small in the bed that's not her size, dwarfed and surrounded by the racks of IV's connected to every conceivable limb. Blood is crusted and congealed around her nose, and her thin chest flutters with infinitesimal, laboured breaths in time with the beeping of the heart monitor by her head. She's covered in gauze and bandages, and there's a clear tube trailing out of the corner of her mouth, pumping a pale pink substance down her throat.

The air constricts around Nick while he gazes at the horrific scene. His skin is crawling. He's claustrophobic. He's freaking the fuck out.

This isn't what he remembers. This shouldn't be.

Vickie wasn't like this. Vickie was strong. Tall. Pretty. Loud. ALIVE.

This girl in the bed...she's close to death.

This isn't his sister. It can't be. He's about to move away from the window, tell Dr Tubman that they've made a mistake, that this is the wrong vixen, but then the girl's eyelids twitch. One slides open a fraction of a centimeter, revealing the edge of a bloodshot pale green iris with a ring of hazel around the outside.

' _Nicky_?'

And Nick-

Nick _runs_.

* * *

 **(A/N: Comments, maybe?)**


	4. Chapter 4

_Nick runs._

 _He runs away from the Meeting House- from the other kid's mocking laughter, from their taunts and grabbing, punching, pinching hands in the darkness, the cruel painful thing they'd forced over his mouth and face..._

 _The muzzle he'd torn off and left at the stoop, but the burning ache of the fur it had ripped out when he did lingered around his cheeks and chin, made worse by his tears finding the cuts and making them sting._

 _Blind, choking on snot and sobs, Nick doesn't realize where his feet have taken him until he trips over his paws and nearly tumbles headfirst into the tiny stream. It's dark, but he knows where he is. He'd ran past home, back to the bridge- their bridge._

 _He curls up against the sloping wall, and that's when the tears come for real, pouring out in uncontrollable sobs. He sees how stupid he was now, thinking that maybe if he joined the Junior Ranger Scouts, he'd officially be a good guy, and maybe the police would let him help find his sister, because wasn't that what good guys did?_

 _Nick wants to be good for his sister, but if this is what trying to be good gets him..._

 _Nicholas Wilde, seven years old and newly wise about the world, sits under the bridge in the park next to a gurgling stream and cries the last tears he will cry for twenty years- tears for his sick, sad mother, for his rejection from the scouts, for his sister that everyone said was never coming back, and newspaper sailboats that will never sail again._

* * *

 **Finnick**

When Finnick O'fennec throws open the back door of his van, the very last mammal he expects to see is his old cellmate-turned-partner-turned-fed, standing there with his paws in his pockets at 4 a.m., looking like he hasn't slept in days.

"Wilde?" Finnick sputters, lowering his baseball bat and taking a stunned step back. He thinks his surprise is pretty damn well justified. He hasn't seen or heard directly from the other fox in damnear two years, since the Belleweather bust left him a single hustler. He delivers all his tips by phone, so he can't think of any reason why the newest member of Zootopia's finest would be at his home, so to speak.

Nick doesn't look at him in favor of staring at his toes. "Hey, Finn. Long time no see, huh?" His voice is empty and chilled, with a tremulous undercurrent that Finnick hasn't heard from him since they'd both done their correctional bids. This isn't the street slick kid he'd boosted fake champagne with- he sounds like the young pred that had hit rock bottom and found himself behind steel bars- no mother, no money, no life, crying himself to sleep at night when he thought Finnick couldn't hear.

"No kiddin'," Finnick mutters. "You, ah...need somethin'?"

Nick rocks on his heels, still not looking at him. "Can in come in?" he asks, in a strained, quiet tone that makes the fennec afraid to say no. Whatever Nick's going through, that probably isn't what he needs to hear.

"Ah...sure," Finnick mumbles, stepping back and aside to let the taller mammal in. They climb into the van, one after the other, and when Nick brushes past, Finnick wrinkles his nose to keep from coughing as the scents of sweat, anger, fear, and strangely, antiseptic assail his senses.

"You, uh, want a drink?" he asks, after an awkward pause where they both stand in the middle of the runway. Nick does a strange little shimmy with his shoulders, sort of a 'yes' and an 'I don't give a shit' all in one.

"Sure."

He reaches for the mini fridge propped up against the dash and opens it, snagging two beers off the shelf. "IceBerg cool?"

"Sure."

Finnick tosses him the can and cracks the tab on his own drink, scrutinizing his fellow fox out of he corner of his eye. "Ya look like hell, Wilde." he says gruffly, trying to inject a note of 'are you okay' into the offhand question. He doesn't think it works. Nick tenses and clenches his jaw like he's about to start yelling, but all he does it let out a hollow, false chuckle.

"That's funny, Fin," he says, nodding his head slowly. "Really, really funny. I just got off the job. A bust, actually."

"Oh yeah?" Finnick mumbles, fighting to keep the fur on his shoulders laid flat. His instincts are screaming at him, telling him to get the hell out of dodge, and he's close to following their advice.

"Mhm." Nick replies, dull green eyes locked on his drink as he stirs the can with quick, jerky flicks of his wrist. "FurFlung."

Oh...that. Okay, Finnick reasons, maybe that's why Nick was acting so weird. Finnick himself had never had the misfortune to have to witness the shadier dealings of FurFlung, but he's betting it wasn't anything nice. Still, you see worse things on the streets, and Nick had never been a particularly sensitive mammal.

"Yeah. I uh, saw it on the news." he mutters, shaking his head. "Fucked up."

"Indeed." Nick parrots. His claws tighten around his beer, which he hasn't taken a sip out of yet. "You called it in, right?" he asks suddenly, lifting his head to pin Finnick with an unreadable gaze.

Shit shit shit. "Uh...yeah. Maybe. I don't remember...s'awhile ago." Finnick grunts. He resists the urge to tug at his collar like a perp getting the fifth degree, even though it's hot as rhino balls in the van all of a sudden and Nick is standing between him and his baseball bat.

"Right, right."

There's a brief moment of silence. Nick doesn't look away.

"Wilde-"

"Did you know?"

Finnick blinks twice, thrown off whatever mental track he'd been on before than random, context-less question. "Know what?"

The expression that takes hold of Nick's muzzle could have been called a smile, if smiles were meant to show off every single one of your teeth and could also pass for pained grimaces. "Did. You. Know?" he repeats, ears pinned back flush to his skull and a slight growl catching at the end of his words.

Finnick bristles, eyes flicking to the bat. If he has to, he thinks he can get under Nick's forelegs and grab it before- and if- things get hairy. "Hey look. I don't know what you-"

The rest of his sentence was lost in a yelp and a blur of red fur as he's grabbed and hoisted roughly against the wall of his van by the collar of his shirt, courtesy of Nick's paws around his throat.

"DID YOU KNOW SHE WAS THERE?!" the taller fox yells, shaking him back and forth while he snarls and snaps, flailing his legs in a futile attempt to kick Nick's stomach in and escape.

"Who was there?! What the fuck, Wilde-?!" Finnick howls.

Nick looks near feral in his rage, and Finnck has never, EVER seen him like this. "My sister, Finnick! My sister was there?! And you knew?! For two fucking years?!" he spits.

"Wilde-!"

"You think I look like hell?!" Nick snarls, cutting him off with another hard jostle. "Do you have any idea what they did to her?! What SHE looks like?! What SHE'S been through?! For sixteen years!?"

There's a few more seconds of murderous confusion, and then Finnick remembers- both of them out on the town a few years ago, wasted after celebrating a good hustle, Nick leaning against his shoulder and nodding at a little vixen across the bar, slurring his words through tipsy tears.

 _'She looks like my Vicky,'_ he'd said, _''cept she's dead. My sister. Bet she'd be real pretty.'_

Nick's sister was supposed to be dead. If they'd found her at the club...

For a moment, he feels sick to his guts, and he wishes the girl had been dead for real. He can only imagine...

"I swear, I swear, Nick, I didn't know." he chokes out, shaking his head so fast his ears flop into his eyes. "All I heard was some chicks were being pimped out at a club in Tundra Town. I never went in, and I didn't know. I swear, I swear...I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry..."

Nick's eyes flutter shut, and his grip weakens. His head slowly drops towards his chest. For a second Finnick thinks he's about to start crying, but he's dropped on his ass without another word, huddling against the wall like a scared child while Nick flees the van. He stares at the puddles of wasting beer gushing from the two dropped cans soaking into the paneling of the car until they slow to a trickle, and tries to get his shuddering under control.

"Fucking christ." It comes out as a whisper.

* * *

 **Judy**

Judy finds him under the same bridge she found him at during the Belleweather case, when she'd come to beg his forgiveness and assistance. it's deja vu in the worst way possible.

By the time she finally catches up to him, Nick is leaning against the crumbling wall of the structure, unmoving, taking slow, deep drags off a lit cigarette and watching the small, gurgling stream tumble over a tiny dam of mossy pebbles.

The relief that flows through her is almost strong enough to knock her down. "Nick?" she calls, padding tentatively over to his position but still keeping a cautious distance. She wants to run to him and grab him, bury her face in his fur and scream about how worried she'd been. how upset Bogo was, how she'd been looking for him everywhere, that she'd told him seeing his sister like that was a bad idea and that after he left the girl had had a seizure and screamed his name, but for obvious reasons she keeps her yap shut.

Nick doesn't say anything for a while, inhaling and exhaling around his cigarette like it was an oxygen tube. The smoke curls around his ears and turns his fur a dusty grey where it lingers.

"Well," he says, finally, voice carefully blank and neutral. "Isn't this a blast from the past?"

"I guess," Judy murmurs. She has no idea what else to say, but she's promised herself she isn't going to push. She can see it all swirling beneath Nick's surface, the release he so desperately needs, and she knows it's close to cresting.

"How'd you find me then, anyway?" he asks.

Judy swallows air. "Finnick told me. He's...pretty shaken up." she ventures. From what she understands, Nick had had a not-so-miniature snap mode moment in Finnick's van, and she feels at least partly responsible for losing track of him the way she did, when she did.

Nick snorts darkly, sending two huge puffs of smoke spiraling out of his nostrils. "He'll live." The unvoiced comparison is loud and obvious in the air between them, and Judy barely withholds a flinch.

"I...didn't know you smoked." she tries, hating herself for not being brave enough to stop dancing around the elephant in the room, so to speak.

Nick smirks dryly. "Haven't for a while, Carrots, not since before we met."

"Smoking's bad for you, Nick." she chides, thoughtlessly. Nick tenses his shoulders, managing to turn the defensive reflex into a shrug at the last minute.

Fluff. Great job, officer foot-in-mouth, that's just what he needs, a lecture.

"I've done a lot of things that are bad for me, Judy." Nick hedges, resolutely staring at the creek.

She wants to touch him, so very badly, but she can't bring herself to try, lest he explode in her face like a live grenade. "...Nick-"

"This was our place, you know. Our own special little spot." Nick cuts her off, gesturing with his chin at the stream. Judy snaps her mouth shut with a click and watches him talk silently, heart breaking a little with every word. "She'd make us paper boats out of newspapers, and we'd come sail them down here so the other kids wouldn't throw rocks at us and sink them."

"Nick..."

"She was eleven," he continues, blinking furiously, talking fast like he had a time limit to get the words out, like if he slowed down or stopped she wouldn't understand, "and we were walking home. We were halfway there and we had to turn around to get something from the store for dinner." He chuckles wetly, shaking his head. "I was being a whiny little snot. I didn't want to go with her, so she sat me on a stoop and said she'd be right back." He chuckles again, a broken hysterical sound. "I waited there for six hours. She never...I never saw her again."

Judy's voice breaks with tears on his name, but he doesn't stop. "N-Nick..."

"The cops looked for maybe three days before they classified her a runaway," Nick growls, eyes narrowed and canines bared. "They told us to keep the fucking porch light on. 'We don't know what to tell you, ma'am, maybe she'll turn up in a few months with a baby and a drug habit'." He flicks the cigarette butt away and laughs bitterly. "Only in Zootopia, right?"

Judy says nothing- she can't, past the thick blockage in her throat- but it turns out Nick doesn't need her to. His ears droop so low they nearly touch his chin, and he starts to tremble, not unlike the way he did in her bathroom but much, much worse. Nick Wilde- smooth, slick, unconcerned Nick- crumbles before Judy's eyes, sliding down the bridge wall and holding his shaking head in his paws as tears stream down his face and silent sobs wrack his chest.

"I buried her, Judy," he says, jabbing a claw at his temple. "I buried her in here, sixteen years ago. Sixteen goddamned years."

Judy sinks to her knees beside him, crying silently as she wraps her arms around his waist.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

She wishes, oh god she wishes she knew.


End file.
